


Nightmare or reality?

by embeer2004



Series: Resonance divergence [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC) Spoilers, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Injury, La cage au Fou, Pack, Protectiveness, Tesham Mutna, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Direct sequel to Resonance divergence. After Tesham Mutna, Regis has trouble distinguishing nightmare from reality. Did Dettlaff really find him and take him and Geralt back to his temporary abode, or was it all just one big hallucination and he was still imprisoned in Khagmar’s cage?





	Nightmare or reality?

**Author's Note:**

> Resonance divergence was meant as a one shot without any *direct* follow-up, but there was this scenario popping into my mind that I really wanted to write down. If you haven’t done so, read that story first, this story won’t make much sense otherwise.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

**_Dettlaff_**  
  
“We’re here, Regis,” Dettlaff remarked, relieved that they’d made it. They’d been travelling north for what felt like hours, forced to walk all the way to Mère Lachaiselongue cemetery.  
  
Earlier when they’d neared Francollarts Dettlaff had been tempted to turn east and find themselves some transport, a horse at least, but Regis had grasped his elbow and pulled him onwards, hissing softly. He’d felt the **_fear_** and **_worry_** radiating off of Regis, the **_uncertainty_** and the urge to **_protect_**.  
  
It was for the best that they’d walked; horses did tend to freak out whenever they encountered vampires (Horse excepted but he’d left her in Nazair), and Dettlaff had feared that any anxious behaviour from the animals would only provoke Regis. The older vampire had been barely hanging onto coherence; his emotions raw and feral so Dettlaff had kept on sending **_calm_** and **_safe_** to him, hoping to soothe the upset vampire.  
  
When Regis had started stumbling, struggling to stay upright Dettlaff had told him to grasp his elbow for support and to hold on.  
  
If he’d been able to he would have liked to nudge Regis into his mist-like shape and carry him around in his pocket, yet Regis was too exhausted, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the shape for long. His friend would have to endure for a little while longer, he couldn’t carry them both and Geralt was definitely not moving under his own power any time soon.  
  
Dettlaff had made sure to halt their trek every so often and allow Regis some rest. The exhausted vampire would lean heavily on him whenever they stopped, breathing deeply, and he would pull Dettlaff’s elbow until the vampire had turned, then reach out with a shaking hand to touch Geralt’s arm.  
  
The sensations coming through their bond had felt like a whirling maelstrom, dizzying Dettlaff with their intensity and his heart clenched at feeling his brother’s distress. How Regis was still standing, still hanging onto some fragment of coherence, was a mystery to the young vampire. So much pain, so much suffering, if he’d experienced that first hand…  
  
Dettlaff’s eyes roved their surroundings, taking in the headstones and the crypt Regis had appropriated. There was a brown horse grazing just uphill but otherwise the cemetery seemed deserted. This seemed to be a good place to hole up, away from living mortals and the hustle and bustle they brought with them.  
  
“Geralt?” Regis squeezed Dettlaff’s elbow, asking to see his friend again. He was leaning heavily against him and the younger vampire could feel the small tremors running through his friend’s body.  
  
Dettlaff looked down at the pale figure in his arms. Geralt was still hanging on, a remarkable feat after what had happened to him. He started to turn around to give Regis a better view when Regis gasped, collapsing against him before crumbling to the ground.  
  
“Regis!” Dettlaff carefully placed Geralt on the ground and rushed to check on his brother, fingers anxiously searching for new injuries.  
  
“I’m all right, Dettlaff,” Regis tried to reassure him, blinking tiredly. He drew his right arm to his chest and held on; it seemed the limb was still bothering him. “I think I’ll just rest here for a bit. Please… take Geralt inside? There’s a bed upstairs, I’ll join you in a minute…”  
  
Dettlaff felt his hackles rising at the thought of leaving Regis behind, but he gave in. Soon his brother and the witcher would be able to rest and recover, and he fully intended to keep a close eye on them while they did. He’d come back for Regis when he’d put Geralt down on the bed.  
  
“As you wish, I’ll return for you when I’ve done so.” He took Geralt back into his arms and went through the door of the crypt, following the stairs down until he’d reached a larger area. Regis had mentioned a bed upstairs? He quickly took in the lay-out of the crypt, having no trouble even in the darkness. There was a dim smell of oil and soot in the air and his eyes settled on several large fire cones. The fires were out, he’d have to re-light them; Dettlaff suspected that waking up underground and in the dark would not be a pleasant experience for Regis. And humans feared the dark didn’t they?  
  
Dettlaff went upstairs and noticed the bookshelves and what seemed to be a little brewing station with pots and jars, a desk and a stool right next to a small bed, shoved against a stone wall. So this is where Regis had been spending his time in between trying to search for him?  
  
He carefully lay Geralt down and listened to his heartbeat for a moment. It sounded stronger already, the witcher’s potions seemed to be having a positive effect. “I’ll return shortly, with Regis,” he told the unconscious human, stepping away from the bed.  
  
Dettlaff noticed a little pile of kindling and oils when he turned to go down the stairs. The knife on his back and the piece of flint near the kindling enabled him to quickly light the fires on his way out. The orange glow settling in the crypt made for a huge improvement. Dettlaff could feel the heat coming from them. Good, the human needed to warm up.  
  
**_Grief._**  
  
Dettlaff frowned and quickly misted up, whirling up the stairs in his fog-like shape and materialising outside just beyond the door. **_  
_**  
Regis was still lying on the ground, but the vampire was curled up tightly, hugging his right arm to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. “Gone gone gone…” Dettlaff heard him whimpering.  
  
Dettlaff hurried closer and knelt next to the distraught vampire. **_Calm. Safe._** “Regis, it’s all right now. Geralt’s inside already. Let’s get you inside as well so that you can rest.”  
  
Regis looked up at him first before his eyes frantically roved the area. “Gone!” he cried, shifting into his vampiric form, hissing and snarling. He pushed the ground, trying to jump at him, but the moment he tried his right arm crumbled under his weight, causing his friend to let out a pained whimper.  
  
**_Love. Safe._** “Geralt’s upstairs, Regis, he’s sleeping. Do you want to go to him?” Dettlaff spoke softly.  
  
Regis looked back at him, distrust clear on his face. The vampire snarled at him again, showing off his long fangs in warning. **_Fear.  
_**  
**_Calm. Warm. Safe. Love._** Dettlaff slowly reached out a hand. “Come, your pup needs you.”  
  
Regis quieted down hearing those words and his vampiric features morphed back until he was in his human form. He reached for Dettlaff’s hand and the moment their fingers touched the young vampire moved in closer and lifted Regis in his arms, taking his brother inside.  
  
Dettlaff quickly settled Regis down on the low stool near the bed, making sure Regis could see Geralt if he wanted to. Regis was still wearing his coat, it would be uncomfortable to sleep in. Dettlaff looked around and spotted Regis’ travelling pack that would contain his clothes. Making sure his friend wouldn’t fall off the stool Dettlaff retrieved a new set of clothes before starting to undo the buckles of his long coat and helping Regis to manoeuvre his arms until the heavy garment could be slipped off of him.  
  
There was heavy bruising around Regis’ right shoulder and his wrists. He wasn’t healing as he should. For a moment Dettlaff was drawn to another time, but the lack of black veins did help some to soothe his fears. Regis needed to rest so his body could regenerate.  
  
“Here, let’s put these on,” Dettlaff spoke softly, showing his brother the fresh clothes.  
  
Regis allowed himself to be manhandled without complaint or threat, his gaze focused on the unconscious witcher. When Dettlaff had just finished dressing him his wrist was grasped by the older vampire and a thumb started stroking the flesh over his pulse point. “You found us,” Regis half asked, half stated in surprise.  
  
“I did,” Dettlaff confirmed, keeping his answer short and to the point.  
  
Regis blinked, looked up at Dettlaff, then down at Geralt, still keeping a hold of Dettlaff’s wrist.  
  
Dettlaff remembered all the upsetting sensations he’d received over their bond for the past two days and he knew his brother was worn out; he himself felt worn out too from sensing Regis’ emotions. “You should rest.”  
  
Regis swallowed and shook his head. “No, I must stay awake, watch over Geralt, and I need to create a concoction, to aid his healing…”  
  
Dettlaff stroked the hand holding his wrist. “Your hands are shaking. Give me the recipe and I shall make it.” It wouldn’t be difficult to create a potion, as long as he had the instructions; it wasn’t that different from cooking in that sense and he loved to cook.  
  
Regis looked at his own hands and his face radiated defeat when he must have realised the truth in the statement. He nodded.  
  
“Go lie down with Geralt. You know I can make this concoction. Tell me how.”  
  
Regis lifted himself from the stool to sit on the bed next to Geralt. He closed his eyes and shook his head. **_Frustration._** “I can’t remember. I know the recipe’s somewhere in my collection but I can’t remember where!”  
  
Dettlaff hummed. “Geralt’s heart is beating stronger than it did in Tesham Mutna. Those potions of his are helping him heal. You can rest for a while Regis, sleep. When you wake you’ll remember.”  
  
“So much blood…” Regis whispered, lifting a shaking hand to Geralt’s tunic. **_Concern. Fear._** His fingers carefully grasped the bloodied material, starting to lift it. He didn’t get far in trying to remove the tunic though, careful as he was trying to be and still avoiding using his right arm.  
  
**_Calm. Safe._** Dettlaff crouched down on his haunches and placed his hand on top of Regis’, stilling his fluttering movements. Wordlessly, he moved up onto the bed and slowly lifted Geralt, carefully pulling the bloodied tunic upwards. He didn’t object when Regis’ trembling hand returned to try and help him. That done, Dettlaff lay Geralt down on the bed and, together with Regis’ aid, removed the witcher’s trousers and his underwear, both garments bloody as well.  
  
With every bit of skin that was revealed Dettlaff could see the many bite wounds and bruises covering Geralt’s body and he also noticed some long slashes that had likely been caused by sharp claws. The blood surrounding the injuries was dried and it seemed like all the punctures and slashes had scabbed over. It didn’t look like bandages would be necessary, though certainly a quick wash to remove the dried blood clinging to the man’s skin would not be out of place, especially for Regis’ comfort.  
  
“Regis, let’s get Geralt cleaned and dressed so that he can rest more comfortably. Could we use some of your spare clothes?” He didn’t think so, but he wanted to keep Regis’ attention focused on the here and now; his brother’s gaze had become dulled and he seemed to be looking at something far away.  
  
Regis blinked. “Mine won’t fit. Geralt’s packs are downstairs, one of them contains his clothes.”  
  
Dettlaff nodded thoughtfully, he had seen several packs lying about. “Before dressing him, I’m sure Geralt would appreciate feeling clean.”  
  
“Yes,” Regis nodded, “yes, you’re right. Over there…” he pointed to a corner and Dettlaff spotted a washing basin.  
  
“I’ll fetch Geralt’s clothes first.” Dettlaff misted up and swirled downstairs to the witcher’s packs, materialising next to them and searching for the one containing clothes. Then he hurried up the stairs, collecting the washing basin and a jug of water standing next to it, returning to Regis’ side.  
  
Regis’ head was cocked slightly; he was obviously listening intently, slowly stroking Geralt’s hair.  
  
Dettlaff had had a lot of experience taking care of an unconscious body and, together with Regis, managed to quickly but gently clean Geralt’s body and dress him in a fresh set of underwear and a long sleeved shirt.  
  
Regis retrieved the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered Geralt up to his shoulders with it before immediately lying down next to his friend, carefully nudging the man a bit further until Geralt nearly touched the wall next to the bed. The vampire lay down on his side and curled himself around Geralt, his own back to Dettlaff.  
  
Dettlaff sighed inwardly. Regis was displaying all the behaviours of a vampire with an injured pup. This did not bode well for the future, adopting a mortal… He sighed in **_helpless_** **_frustration_**. ~~  
  
~~**_Concern._** Regis looked back over his shoulder. “Dettlaff?”  
  
**_Calm._** “I’m here, Regis. Go to sleep.”  
  
Regis’ breathing sped up and he twisted his body a bit further, reaching his hand out towards the younger vampire.  
  
Dettlaff took the hand in his own, careful not to jostle the limb that was likely still hurting. “All right.” He knew what Regis was asking for. Several years ago when Regis had been in the early stages of regeneration just holding the other vampire had done much to soothe his mind and relax his body, speeding up his recovery. He and Regis had often shared the same bed back in those days and had continued to do so, both liking the arrangement. Dettlaff would often join Regis when he went to bed and would stay next to him for a few hours, getting some sleep as well. However, he didn’t need as much sleep as Regis did, his brother was still healing after all, and once he woke he tended to get up and interact with the other members of his pack.  
  
Dettlaff examined the bed, wondering whether the frame would hold all three of them before deciding that he would just have to try. The bed wasn’t big, he’d have to curl up close behind Regis in order to fit on there as well. So he did. He moved a hand up to touch Regis’ curled back and nuzzled his nose against the vampire’s neck, breathing in his scent. **_Safe. Love.  
_**  
**_Love._** Regis let out a soft sigh before stilling, drifting off to sleep.  
  
Dettlaff listened for a while, focusing on Regis’ heartbeat until he was sure the vampire was asleep. Then he closed his own eyes, deciding to get some rest as well.  
  
He had nearly drifted off when his eyes snapped open and he looked up at first Regis, then Geralt. The sensation of small trembles shaking the mattress alerted him that something was wrong. A quick glance at his companions revealed it to be the witcher shivering. Dettlaff reached over Regis’ curled up body and touched the back of his hand against Geralt’s forehead.  
  
Geralt, though he felt warmer compared to the iciness back in Tesham Mutna, still felt colder than he thought humans should be. Rhena had definitely felt warmer than this.  
  
Dettlaff slowly removed himself from the bed, taking care not to jostle the mattress too much and accidently wake Regis. He whirled up into his mist-like shape and flew around the crypt, in search of something that could serve as an extra blanket. Perhaps the witcher had something in his other packs, and if not his long coat may actually be of help.  
  
After a bit of searching Dettlaff did find two blankets among Geralt’s belongings. Good, very good. He walked up the stairs and carefully tucked the extra blankets around the shivering human.  
  
Dettlaff frowned, touching Geralt’s forehead again; he was barely warmer than a vampire. He hoped the extra blankets would be sufficient to get the man to stop shivering. If his temperature didn’t improve soon he would try heating up some stones and placing them inside the blankets.  
  
He sat down on the low stool next to the bed, deciding he’d keep a close eye on the witcher.  
  
~*~  
  
**_Regis_**  
   
_He was trapped. He’d rubbed his wrists raw even through his gloves and blood was seeping down the metal bars. He couldn’t get free. His pup was right below him but he couldn’t reach him!  
  
Regis cried out. Geralt wasn’t responding. Hadn’t responded for so long. How long had it been? He’d woken from his frenzy so many times now he’d lost count.  
  
It was so dark. So cold… Geralt must be cold too. Regis looked down at the ground and could only just make out his friend’s figure. So still…  
  
Wriggling maggots infested his chest and he frantically started pulling on his wrists again. What if he gnawed at them, through them? How long would it take to grow new hands? Would it be in time to open the unlocked door behind him and hurry down to Geralt? Why hadn’t he thought of doing that before?  
  
He couldn’t reach his wrists well enough with his mouth to bite through them in one go. The best he could do was an awkward bite from the side that healed nearly as soon as he wanted to start his next bite. No! He needed to get out! Regis tried again, with the same result. The physical pain was nothing to him. He must get out!  
  
Try as he might, Regis didn’t succeed in freeing his wrists. The cage dangled from the ceiling, dizzying him. He closed his eyes.  
  
When he opened them again Geralt’s body had started to bloat. It became darker. Then the flesh caved in on itself and the stench of rotting meat assaulted Regis’ nostrils. He was too late!  
  
He didn’t know how much time had passed before he opened his eyes and saw only a fleshy skeleton beneath him wearing Geralt’s armour. Too late. Gone gone! He howled loud, feeling like his heart was wrenched from his chest. He was stuck here. He really was stuck here. There was no escape. No one would find them here, this place had been long abandoned. Geralt was gone and he was alone. He squeezed his eyes shut and started breathing rapidly.  
  
_ “Geralt!” Regis shouted, opening his eyes.  
  
He blinked. This place looked familiar. His brow furrowed. It smelled… like his little set-up in the crypt.  
  
There was a soft sound next to him and Regis looked down. **_Shock._** With a hesitant hand he reached out to the pale face; Geralt’s golden eyes were opened to slits, looking at him tiredly. Was this real? Did it matter? What else did he have? A dark prison underground with just the skeleton of his friend to torment him? No he would rather stay here, real or not.  
  
He carefully wrapped his arms around Geralt’s torso and shifted the witcher onto his side so he could tuck him better against his body, holding him close. He settled his nose in the crook of Geralt’s neck; he’d been bleeding, Regis remembered. He’d licked away the blood but this time it had done nothing for him. No intoxicating effect. It had tasted horrible. That must have been a dream, after he’d drank the sangurium Geralt had smelled quite tasty and he was sure that the taste would equal the smell and his friend’s blood would be delectable. He hugged Geralt’s body. Never. He would never use him as food.  
  
A pained wheeze. “Regis,” a tired voice whispered, “need… air.”  
  
Regis shook his head and lifted a hand to the back of Geralt’s head.  
  
“Regis,” another voice spoke, “your pup needs air.” That sounded like Dettlaff, further proof that this was just a dream.  
  
“Pup?” the tired voice wheezed.  
  
A hand touched his shoulder and Regis looked behind him, seeing Dettlaff. “Quickly Regis, you’re hurting Geralt.”  
  
All of a sudden Regis let go. Dream or not he would never want to hurt Geralt. He looked back, seeing dazed golden eyes stare up at him, blinking tiredly. Geralt’s expression was pinched. His friend was wrapped in several layers of blankets and he started weakly struggling against the folds.  
  
“Just a moment, Geralt.” Regis saw a pair of hands appear above him and start to gently untuck the blankets from under the man’s body.  
  
Free from his tight constraint, Geralt managed to lift a hand and touch it to Regis’ cheek. “Real?” he whispered, looking intently at Regis and then questioningly over the vampire’s shoulder, towards Dettlaff.  
  
A squeak escaped his throat. **_Fear._** “I don’t know…” He squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s.  
  
**_Calm. Safe._** Dettlaff stroked his shoulder. “This is real, Regis. You’re safe. You both are.”  
  
The touch on his cheek fell away and Regis opened his eyes, seeing golden eyes closing in exhaustion. Geralt’s breathing slowly evened out.  
  
“No!” Regis shouted, reaching for Geralt’s hand.  
  
Dettlaff squeezed his shoulder. “He’s only fallen asleep, Regis. He’s recovering; listen to his heart, you can hear it right?”  
  
Regis jerked his shoulder from Dettlaff’s hold and curled himself tightly around Geralt, pulling the blankets back up over his friend’s shoulders.  
  
“Listen to his heart, Regis. Focus on it,” Dettlaff cajoled.  
  
The body next to him was warm, just as it should be. Regis decided to humour Dettlaff and listened closely. He had to wait for a while, a witcher’s heart beat slower than a normal human’s, but there it was. He cried out upon hearing it and tucked Geralt’s head under his chin. “How… how do I know this is real Dettlaff?”  
  
“You suffered a nightmare and moved violently in your sleep. It awoke the w- Geralt. I do not know what I can say to make you believe this is real, but it is. You two are no longer in Tesham Mutna. You’re in your crypt in the cemetery. There’s a horse outside, grazing nearby; it’s free to move about but it stays close to the crypt. Geralt’s perhaps?”  
  
“Roach,” Regis nodded. He vaguely remembered seeing her when they arrived.  
  
“Geralt still needs to breathe, Regis. Come and join me for a while, you were going to show me the recipe so I can brew the potion to aid his recovery, remember?”  
  
Regis stilled. He hadn’t been squeezing Geralt too hard again, had he? **_Worry._** He looked down at the pale figure, seeing the chest move up and down. He moved the blankets down and lifted Geralt’s shirt up, examining his friend’s injuries. The cuts and bites would scar, but they had closed; he hadn’t caused them to start bleeding again.  
  
“Regis?” a hesitant voice asked, “the potion?”  
  
Reluctantly, Regis uncurled himself from around Geralt’s body and slipped off the bed. The second he stood up he grew lightheaded and his legs trembled, but luckily strong hands quickly supported him, preventing a fall.  
  
A hand tenderly stroked his jaw. **_Love._** “Do you remember where you placed it? Once you’ve shown me you can go back to sleep.”  
  
Regis shook his head. Sleep… or back to his prison? No, he must not fall asleep again. He didn’t want to leave. Taking a deep breath he steadied his legs and moved over to one of his bookcases. Dettlaff kept hovering by his side but he didn’t mind. He feared that if he closed his eyes for too long his brother would be gone. That _this_ would all be gone and he’d wake up, back in the darkness.  
  
He stopped in front of his desk. Already his memory was playing tricks on him; his notebook was not where he’d left it. Perhaps Geralt had moved it? Regis’ belly roiled; his friend tended to read every book and note he could find. Dettlaff too for that matter. He shook his head and reached for a red tome containing his potion recipes. His hand still shook as he reached for it. Indeed Dettlaff was going to have to make the concoction, in this state he was sure to mess up the portions.  
  
“This is the one,” Regis held out the notebook towards Dettlaff, “its brewing time is quite short luckily and I have all ingredients on hand. They’re over there near the cauldron.”  
  
He saw Dettlaff’s gaze settling on his laboratory set-up. “Rest now, old friend. I shall follow these instructions and get Geralt to drink the required dose.”  
  
“No!” Regis felt his body shift to his alternate state. Claws and fangs elongating for only a moment before exhaustion caught up to him and he settled back down in his human skin.  
  
Dettlaff stood still, his face calm, but Regis could feel the **_worry_** coming through loud and clear.  
  
“I mean… I’d rather watch to make sure all’s going well? In case you need any help?” He didn’t want to rest and he didn’t know what to think of this situation. Dettlaff just popping up out of nowhere. It was all a little too convenient wasn’t it? And Dettlaff had tried to kill Geralt back at the abandoned building. **_Scared._** What if he brewed the concoction wrong on purpose? He should just brew it himself. **_Distrust._** If Dettlaff wanted to attack Geralt now he would be quicker than Regis was. He could just kill his pup in the blink of an eye. **_Fear. Anguish.  
  
_** He looked back at Geralt. The witcher seemed to be sleeping soundly. With shaking hands Regis grasped his temples. His chest felt tight, he couldn’t breathe! He didn’t need to, but why couldn’t he breathe? He closed his eyes and dropped to his knees. Dettlaff could kill Geralt and he would be helpless to stop him! “Don’t kill him,” he begged his brother, “please Dettlaff! Don’t kill don’t kill…” he started rocking himself, back and forth, back and forth. Trying to breathe. **_Panic.  
_**  
He heard a startled gasp a small moment before an arm reached around him and hugged him to a large chest, while a hand at the back of his head gently pressed his face into a familiar place. The position felt familiar, the warmth, the scents. **_Love. Safe._** _**Calm.**_ A cheek nuzzled the top of his head. “Regis…” Dettlaff’s voice sounded heartbroken. **_Sad._** “I will not hurt your pup, I didn’t know who he was earlier, but now that I do I will protect him. For you.” ** _Love. Safe._** “Geralt has nothing to fear from me. Please brother, it saddens me to see you like this.”  
  
A hand started stroking through the hair on his temple and Regis leaned into the touch, letting his hands fall to his sides. His chest still felt tight. Suddenly he felt dark red tendrils reaching for his mind. He angrily pushed Dettlaff away. “No! Don’t!” He glared at the younger vampire, his own body tense, prepared for fight or flight, though Regis knew if it came to that he would lose at both. He wasn’t strong enough, nor fast enough.  
  
“Regis, I’m trying to help. Please…” **_Anguish._** Dettlaff looked crestfallen, his arms held out in a silent plea.  
  
There was no deceit in his gaze, nor in the sensations Regis could feel through their bond.  
  
_Confusion. Worry._  
  
Regis startled and looked back at Geralt. It only happened sporadically that he could feel Geralt’s emotions while not focusing on him directly.  
  
The witcher’s eyes were open and the man’s head lolled to the side, trying to locate the two vampires who were just beyond his sight. “Regis?” the man whispered tiredly, one hand moving over the bed as though searching for something.  
  
Regis’ hands clenched into fists and he forced himself to breathe in and out slowly. “I’m here, Geralt,” he said. He tried to breathe the tenseness from his body and calm his mind.  
  
A shuddering breath came from the bed, followed by a deep inhale as Geralt seemed to gather all his strength to sit up. The witcher only managed to press his hand deeply into the mattress, trying to push himself off, before his body grew limp and lay trembling on the mattress. “Wh- where?” Geralt’s voice sounded strained.  
  
Keeping an eye on Dettlaff, or comforting Geralt… Regis looked at the bed and bit his lip. If he sat on the bed he could do both. He shook his head, frustrated with himself. He did trust Dettlaff, his brother told him he wouldn’t hurt Geralt. Why was he behaving like this? It was Dettlaff! Patient, caring Dettlaff, his pack, his blood-brother…  
  
“Dettlaff?” Regis asked, uncertain what he actually wanted to ask. There was so much he was unsure of at the moment.  
  
_Fear._ A small squeak escaped Geralt’s throat and Regis decided he had to move, now!  
  
Before he could even ask, Dettlaff was gently helping him stand upright and move back towards the bed. Dettlaff carefully shifted Geralt to a sitting position and waited for Regis to scoot onto the mattress until his back rested against the wall. Golden eyes were observing the pair, bemusedly.  
  
A moment later Regis was sitting upright, with Geralt’s upper body resting on his legs. Regis’ hand immediately settled on Geralt’s hair, clawed fingers gently running over the man’s scalp. “It’s all right, Geralt,” Regis looked at Dettlaff, hoping to see confirmation in the vampire's blue gaze, “you’re safe. We’re back at my crypt.”  
  
Dettlaff took a step back, a sad smile on his face. “You can watch me brew the concoction from here, I’ll go through every step.”  
  
Regis swallowed, distracted by the feel of Geralt’s face burying itself in his belly and one of his hands reaching up in request. Regis obliged, holding onto the pale limb with his free hand and squeezing gently. Golden eyes blinked wearily before closing and a small sigh left the witcher’s lips.  
  
Regis silently watched as Dettlaff started brewing the concoction. As promised his brother explained what he was doing, even holding up the ingredients before adding them to the potion. He could feel his mental hackles lowering, appeased by the vampire’s care. The warm body in his lap felt heavy, tangible. The smells and sensations were all so very real. “I apologise for my behaviour, Dettlaff. Of course I trust you.” He’d been such a nuisance to his brother. **_Shame.  
_**  
**_Sadness. Love._** “You should rest, Regis. Your mind has had quite a blow.” Dettlaff finished the last stage of the concoction and set it aside to cool, coming over to Regis’ side.  
  
“I don’t want to close my eyes.” He fiddled with a strand of white hair, rubbing it between his fingers.  
  
Dettlaff covered his hand, stilling his movement. “If you’ll allow me I can try and calm your mind? I apologise for not asking earlier.”  
  
“Can you promise this is real?” Regis knew he sounded like a small pup, but he wanted, no, _needed_ the reassurance.  
  
A hand touched his face and a thumb lightly ran over his cheek. “With all that I believe in and hold dear, this is real Regis. You’ll find out soon enough that you’re safe, both of you.”  
  
Regis jerkily shook his head. “I’m so tired, Dettlaff. Promise me you’ll take care of Geralt while I rest?”  
  
“I promise,” Dettlaff stroked his cheek and helped him to settle down on the bed, shifting Geralt so that the witcher was lying on his side next to him, his head on Regis’ chest. Regis’ arm came up around the human’s shoulders. He was trusting Dettlaff to make sure nothing happened to Geralt, exposed as he was now.  
  
Regis could feel red tendrils settling over him again, searching. They didn’t actually hurt, but it was a foreign sensation. He didn’t fight the tendrils this time, allowing them to soothe his mind…  
  
*  
  
_It was dark and quiet for a long while. There was a warm tranquillity in the air and Regis closed his eyes, content.  
  
*  
  
When he opened his eyes again he was back in the cage. The smell of blood was all around him and it was so fresh… he wanted it! He was so thirsty! And Geralt’s blood… that tasty blood, oh how he yearned for it.  
  
Regis pulled on his wrists, howling in frustration. He must escape his prison, Geralt was lying down there. If he could reach him he would be able to get to the blood.  
  
No! Geralt was his friend, his pack-mate even, not food! No, never food! Regis howled and shook his arms, jostling the cage. So thirsty… his insides were gnawing at him, demanding sustenance, the bloodier the better.  
  
He jerked at his arms until he felt a painful pop in his right shoulder and his entire arm went tingly numb. He needed to get out! There was still time to save Geralt. He just needed to get out of here and stop the bleeding. Regis tried to bring his hands together, if he could just break his thumb he would be able to slide through the cuffs, but his hands were too far apart. He pulled at his wrists, trying to pull them through the cuffs by mean force, but he couldn’t get enough leverage to gain enough force to pull his hands through.  
  
Beneath him Geralt’s body lay still, unmoving and when he blinked there was nothing but a skeleton wearing Geralt’s bloodied armour. No! Geralt! This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t real!  
  
Regis closed his eyes. If he fell asleep here he would wake up from this nightmare. He vaguely remembered Dettlaff promising him that the crypt had been real. When he opened his eyes though the sight hadn’t changed. The air had grown cooler and he was so cold…  
_  
~*~  
  
**_Geralt_**  
  
Even before he opened his eyes Geralt sensed that something was wrong. The surface he lay on was warm and twitching and he heard panicked short breaths. He opened his eyes, frustrated at himself for how difficult it was. He was so tired, he felt like he could sleep for a week and he still would have had too little rest. He swallowed, his throat felt so dry and his body felt like a heavy sack of sand. Useless weight. Unbidden, his eyes drifted closed and he had to force them back open, giving it all that he had. His hands felt clammy and he noticed he was breathing more rapid than was usual, especially for having just awoken. His head hurt. His whole body hurt.  
  
He was staring at a dark grey something and it was only after a moment that he thought to turn his head slightly and look up. Geralt frowned. Why was he resting on Regis’ chest? What had happened? He blinked, a very unwise thing to do as his eyelids wanted to remain stuck closed. He was so tired…  
  
Regis’ eyes were closed, his skin was pale except for some patches near his cheekbones. The gentle vampire was twitching slightly; he couldn’t actually see it, but lying on top of him he could definitely feel the small tremors. A nightmare, or something else? Geralt wanted to lift a hand up to his friend’s face and discovered it was held by Regis already; he weakly squeezed the limb instead. “Regis?” he croaked. He really wanted something to drink. His friend didn’t seem to hear him though.  
  
All of a sudden a dark shadow approached from the other side and Geralt was instinctively readying an igni when he recognised the figure. His brow furrowed and he turned his head further. “Dettlaff?” Wait. The resonance potion. Their quest had failed, how come Dettlaff was here? Geralt breathed in deeply, taking in the lingering scent of spices and herbs clinging to Regis’ tunic. How come he and Regis were back at what seemed to be the crypt? The last thing he remembered he… was dying?  
  
Blue eyes met his and Geralt felt his body being jostled slightly as Dettlaff sat down next to him, a cup in his hand. “Good, you are awake. I was fearing having to give you medicine while still unconscious.”  
  
“Hnn?” Geralt didn’t understand, medicine could wait, he finally felt warm. He remembered being cold, cold and numb. He wasn’t moving from his cosy spot, not if you paid him a thousand crowns. He turned back to Regis’ chest and buried his face in the fabric. “Hmm… no medicine. Sleep now.” Regis was so soft and warm, he wanted to soak up his heat.  
  
Wait a minute, vampires didn’t run hot. And Regis was trembling, that also wasn’t normal how could he have forgotten that so soon? As quickly as he could he looked back at Dettlaff, stars flickering in front of his vision. “Dettlaff, Regis hot!” he rasped.  
  
Geralt couldn’t see the look Dettlaff gave him through all the stars, but the vampire was quick to reach out and touch Regis’ brow. When the stars had cleared up Geralt could see the vampire was frowning, focusing intently until Regis’ tremors calmed down. Dettlaff’s hand lingered for a bit before reluctantly pulling back.  
  
“His mind has suffered a great shock, he’s been tortured for days, both physically and mentally.” Dettlaff nodded at Regis. “This is his body trying to deal with it.”  
  
Geralt felt more awake now, blood was rushing through his ears. Tortured? He glared at Dettlaff. “You forced him to sleep.” His throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sand and it hurt to talk louder than a near-whisper. Good thing vampires had sensitive hearing.  
  
“I did,” Dettlaff agreed, setting the cup down on the table next to the bed.  
  
Geralt bared his teeth at the vampire. “You trapped him in his nightmares.” He tried to roll over and sit up, but the moment he got his wobbly arms under him he realised how futile it was and settled down again, breathing heavily. He wouldn’t be able to attack Dettlaff as weak as he was. He snorted. Even at full health he wouldn’t be able to handle a higher vampire.  
  
“I did no such thing, I made sure to calm his mind so he could have some hours of true rest.” Dettlaff moved closer to him and tapped Geralt’s wrist. “I promised him I would care for you. Will you allow me to give you the medicine we prepared for you?”  
  
Geralt looked back at Regis, stroking his thumb along the back of the vampire’s hand. He vaguely remembered awaking earlier. Wiggling worms were crawling through his gut. Why was that? Was Regis overpowered by Dettlaff or had he willingly given the other vampire control of the situation? “He was scared,” he said, unsure where that thought came from but feeling it was true all the same, “of you.”  
  
Dettlaff sighed. “Ever since I found you two he’s not been himself. For at least two days he thought you were dead.” The vampire reached out to Regis’ free hand and gently grasped it between his own. “You do not realise the impact your perceived death had on him. You are important to him, Geralt. You’re his family, his pack.“  
  
“His pup?” Geralt frowned; it felt odd to say it out loud, “remember you saying that.”  
  
Dettlaff nodded, his blue eyes focused on Regis’ flushed face. “It grieves me to see him suffer like this, but I don’t know how else I can help. His mind is playing tricks on him, he seems unsure of what’s real. His behaviour is… erratic.” The vampire rubbed circles on the back of Regis’ hand. “So much damage was done to his mind and body in such a short time.”   
  
Geralt stilled, observing Dettlaff. The emotions in those blue eyes tugged at his own heart. It was obvious the vampire loved Regis and he’d been extremely patient helping him regenerate. What could have possibly driven him to leave Regis and murder several humans? Regis was fully convinced there must be a good reason.  
  
Geralt silently cursed himself for being the cause of their current situation. Regis wouldn’t have been tortured for days if he hadn’t gotten distracted for that one moment. “I failed him…” he closed his eyes, reliving the fight. He could feel sleep pulling him down under again and wanted to give in. He was so tired. Regis was asleep as well. Dettlaff had promised Regis to take care of him, he could trust him not to kill him, right?  
  
“Geralt,” Dettlaff called softly, “stay awake for just a moment longer. You need to drink some of Regis’ concoction, it will aid your healing.”  
  
Geralt kept his eyes closed, nuzzling his nose against the soft fabric he was lying on. He heard an aggrieved sigh some distance away.  
  
“Come now, witcher. I’m going to lift you, don’t frighten,” Dettlaff warned him.  
  
Before Geralt really knew what was going on a pair of strong hands lifted him up and away from his warm spot, allowing him to hold on to Regis’ hand, but forcing him to rest halfway upright against something hard and cool. There were stars all over his vision again, even with his eyes closed. He swallowed away the nausea.  
  
Two fingers tapped his cheek. “I need you to drink the potion.”  
  
Geralt kept his mouth closed but opened his eyes, realising he was in the vampire’s hold. Well that explained the cold. He growled softly.  
  
Dettlaff raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Would it help if I told you it would really soothe Regis to know you drank the potion? You’re his friend, you know how he worries.”  
  
Geralt narrowed his eyes. “Not fair… taste horrible.”  
   
Dettlaff held up the cup. “Only flowers, herbs and roots in this one. I’m sure you’ve imbibed potions created of much worse substances.”  
  
Geralt sighed. “Fine…” He tried to force the hand not holding Regis’ to hold the bottom of the cup, but it seemed even that feat of strength was too much for his hurting body. Dejectedly he gave himself up to Dettlaff’s manhandling, allowing the vampire to help him drink. He grimaced at the taste; he’d been a fool to think that herbs and roots meant nice taste. He did know better after all.  
  
Dettlaff patiently helped him drink the entire cup, offering him some water afterwards to wash away the taste. “Very good, Regis will be pleased.”  
  
Geralt looked down at Regis, seeing his friend’s flushed cheeks. It was the first time ever that he’d seen him ill. “Can you do anything ‘bout his fever?”  
  
Dettlaff lay him back down and helped him get back in his original position, head lying on Regis’ chest. “If Regis’ fever hasn’t abated when he next wakes, I’ll have him drink some of my blood. It’s what helps him regenerate faster.”  
  
Geralt hummed, not really knowing how to reply to that.  
  
Dettlaff cocked his head. “I’m curious, Geralt. What were you and Regis trying to achieve down there? In Tesham Mutna? I admit I was more concerned with Regis, then later with you, but I remember seeing the corpses of the beasts and monsters down in that pit. What madness drove you to lure so many to you? From your injuries it’s obvious you lost the fight. Regis...” The vampire reached out to stroke his brother’s arm. “What was worth it, taking such a great risk?”  
  
Geralt pressed himself closer against the warm body. “Resonance… Regis wanted to find you that way. When Regis revealed the final ingredient he’d taken sangurium already, it was too late,” he slurred, squeezing the limp hand in his grip. “Said there was another route available, but no matter how hard I pressed he refused to try it.”  
  
Dettlaff appeared at the top of the bed, peering down at him. The vampire nodded thoughtfully. “The Unseen Elder. Regis was right, if you had gone to him the outcome would likely have been even worse.”  
  
Geralt snorted. “Can’t imagine anything worse. Regis torturing himself, me failing.” He shuddered; if Dettlaff hadn’t found them… “How did you find us?”  
  
Dettlaff shook his head and stroked his hand down Geralt’s eyes, forcing them closed. “Not tonight, Geralt, I’ll tell you and Regis tomorrow. As well as my reasons for leaving.”  
  
Geralt huffed, yawning widely. “If only Vesemir could see me now, sleeping in a crypt with two higher vampires nearby.”  
  
A soft hum. Geralt opened his eyes to see Dettlaff looking at him, his head cocked. “I know a Vesemir. Are there many witchers with that name?”  
  
Geralt shook his head. “Just one that I know of.” It still hurt thinking back to that time. He hadn’t gone back to Kaer Morhen since the battle.  
  
“You know him? How is he?” Dettlaff asked, there was an eagerness in his voice.  
  
Geralt smiled wryly. “I did, we were very close.”  
  
Dettlaff grew silent, as if unsure how to continue.  
  
“Tomorrow, Dettlaff,” Geralt promised, closing his eyes.  
  
*  
  
If Geralt dreamt he certainly didn’t remember it, but when he woke he was lying against something soft and warm. There was a rapid thudding beneath his ear. It took only a moment for him to remember he was lying on top of Regis and his friend certainly should not feel this warm. His heart too was beating much faster than was usual.  
  
He breathed in deeply. He was alive, they both were.  
  
There was a soft pulling in his hair and Geralt felt gentle scratches over his scalp. Regis was… petting him? “Regis?”  
  
The fingers stilled. “Geralt?” A hitching breath. “You’re awake. How are you feeling, my friend?”  
  
Geralt twisted his head to look up at the vampire, seeing black eyes gleaming with some emotion. Regis looked even worse than he felt. “I’m so sorry, Regis. Didn’t mean to let you down.” Unbidden his eyes started watering and he blinked furiously, willing the wetness away.  
  
A clawed hand carefully wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Now now, Geralt. You didn’t let me down.”  
  
“Got distracted. Lost the fight. If Dettlaff hadn’t found us…” Geralt closed his eyes, he really did not want to think of the scenarios. He looked back up at Regis, one hand moving to touch the vampire’s shoulder. “He told me how he found you. Do you believe this is real now?”  
  
Regis slowly struggled to sit in an upright position, taking Geralt with him. “It seems real at the moment, but it also seems real when I shut my eyes and find myself trapped in Khagmar’s cage. If this is my mind escaping from that harsh reality I do not wish it to end. Let me stay here…”  
  
Geralt swallowed, feeling wriggling maggots eating a way through his belly while his heart felt shredded by an invisible garkain. A new wave of wetness rolled from his eyes and he reached for his friend’s hand, bringing it to his own chest. “This is real, Regis. I can’t imagine what you suffered through before Dettlaff came, but there’s no need for nightmares anymore. He found you, this is real.”  
  
The sensation of clawed finger stroking through his hair picked up again. “Perhaps,” Regis hesitated, unsure. “You haven’t answered my question.”  
  
Geralt frowned before remembering. “My body hurts all over, but mostly I’m just tired and dizzy.”  
  
“Did Dettlaff give you a concoction?” Regis asked, black eyes becoming unfocused, dazed.  
  
“He did. Tasted awful. Seems to help though, I can feel my strength returning.”  
  
“Good, good…” The vampire’s eyes slid shut before snapping open. Regis inhaled deeply and slowly released his breath.  
  
“Regis? You’re burning up, I didn’t know vampires could get ill…”  
  
“Hnn…” Regis hummed, fingers still stroking through his hair, his other hand coming up behind his head and gently guiding his face towards the crook of the vampire’s neck.  
  
Geralt frowned, this was unusual. “Perhaps you should get some rest, Regis. You look like death warmed over.”  
  
A small whimper escaped the vampire’s lips and Regis changed his hold, hugging Geralt tight to his chest, the hand in his hair clenching into a fist.  
  
This wasn’t right. Geralt used all his strength to try and disentangle himself from Regis’ hold, but his friend, though taking care not to hurt him, held on tight. He couldn’t move. “Regis, you’re all right. Dettlaff found you, he helped us get back, remember?”  
   
“He left,” Regis hugged his body closer to him, “I cannot feel him anymore.”  
  
Geralt raised an eyebrow; he must be talking about the bond he shared with the other vampire. “Dettlaff’s here, Regis, I saw him just before.” He tried to turn his head around and look for his friend’s blood-brother, but the way Regis was holding him actually made it quite impossible to move. “Dettlaff?” he called out, his voice was barely louder than a whisper, waiting for the vampire’s response. He’d been only awake for a short time but already he wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep. He was so tired… Unbidden, Geralt felt his eyelids slipping closed. The warmth the vampire was radiating was so nice. He nuzzled Regis’ neck, exhaling softly when he was finally comfortable. Sleep’s heavy tendrils were dragging him under and he was willing to let them; Regis would make sure nothing bad would happen.  
  
“Geralt! No, no nonono.” The hand in his hair started clenching and releasing while the arm around his back tightened and he was rocked slightly back and forth. “Stay awake… don’t leave,” Regis begged.  
  
Geralt forced himself to breathe in deeply and open his eyes. “A-awake, Regis,” he reassured, “not going anywhere.”  
  
Before any of them could say anything else a red wisp of smoke swirled over the balcony, materialising into Dettlaff. The vampire’s eyes were wide, frantic, roving over both their figures. “Regis, I felt…” he trailed of, uncertain, looking furtively at Geralt. He sat down on the bed next to them, carefully avoiding touching Geralt, keeping his eyes on Regis. The vampire touched the back of his hand to Regis’ forehead and Geralt could see his lips thinning. Seemingly ignoring Geralt, Dettlaff moved in closer and stroked Regis’ temple.  
  
“I’m here, Regis. I was just outside checking on Roach, Geralt wouldn’t want her to be neglected, would he?” Dettlaff kept on stroking Regis’ temple and pulled back his other hand, bringing it up to a whiskered cheek.  
  
That was actually… pretty decent of Dettlaff. Geralt blinked and tried to move. Still trapped. “He said he couldn’t feel you anymore,” he told the worried vampire.  
  
Dettlaff nodded, keeping his gaze focused on Regis. “Silly old vampire…”  
  
Geralt glared at him, Regis had every right to be upset to be shut out and he was ready to give the vampire a piece of his mind, but Dettlaff lightly tapped his wrist the moment he opened his mouth, startling him into silence.  
   
To his surprise, Regis snorted a laugh.  
  
“Reach out, Regis. Feel our bond. It’s wide open, can you sense it?”  
  
There was a short silence for a while, then Regis’ tight hold loosened. “I… it… Dettlaff?”  
  
“I won’t shut you out anymore, Regis,” the vampire promised, pressing his forehead against Regis’.  
  
Geralt squirmed in Regis’ hold. Dettlaff was far too close; he wouldn’t mind the vampire leaving his personal space. Regis was an exception in it, Regis and Yen and Ciri, no one else… well, except for perhaps Dandelion? And Eskel too.  
  
Dettlaff pulled back and looked down at Geralt before reaching a hand to Regis’ cheek again. “Regis, Geralt needs to rest. You too, but first you must drink some blood. It worries me that your temperature’s still elevated, you’re far too warm.”  
  
“No!” Regis let go of Geralt’s back and pushed at Dettlaff’s chest, growling weakly. “I won’t, he’s my friend!”  
  
Geralt felt himself being pulled upwards, both of Regis’ arms wrapping tightly around him as the vampire dragged him off the bed. He could just make out the elongated claws telling him his friend had shifted to his vampiric shape and idly wondered if the composition of Regis’ blood in this current state would have been enough for the resonance potion. Stars appeared in his vision at the sudden rise and his stomach squirmed. His legs trembled beneath him, he wouldn’t be able to stand yet on his own, of that he was sure.  
  
“Regis,” Geralt wheezed, swallowing back the bile in his throat. “I don’t think that’s what Dettlaff meant.” Geralt lifted his arms and encircled his friend’s waist. He rested his head against Regis’ shoulder.  
  
“My blood, Regis. It will speed up your regeneration and should cure your fever.” Dettlaff held out a hand. “Come brother, your pup is trembling from exhaustion. He’s lost a lot of blood. Lay him down on the bed; you can watch him while you drink from me and then you can join him in resting.”  
  
Regis breathed in deeply and squeezed Geralt briefly, before struggling to get him back to the bed. He hissed when Dettlaff came closer but, after a moment, allowed the other vampire to help lie Geralt flat on the bed. “I’m so sorry, Geralt,” Regis said softly, back to his usual shape, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He retrieved the blankets from the foot-end of the bed and covered him back up, stroking his shoulder one final time.  
  
“You didn’t hurt me, Regis.” Geralt reassured him, struggling to stay awake for a moment longer; this felt so much better, though, selfishly, Geralt did miss his friend’s body heat. “Always looking out, protecting me. Is fine. Now listen to Dettlaff, trust your pack…”  
  
Dettlaff sat down on the foot of the bed and held his arms out to Regis. Geralt watched his friend settle himself sideways on the other vampire’s lap and noticed Dettlaff gently guiding Regis’ face to his neck. The position looked oddly familiar.  
  
As promised, Regis could easily see him and after a slight hesitation his friend gave in and bit Dettlaff’s neck. Geralt looked away. It wasn’t that he was squeamish, but it looked extremely intimate. He didn’t want to intrude. His eyes were drawn back to the pair of vampires after a while though. Regis looked far too tense drinking from Dettlaff and his eyes kept roving over the crypt, like a wild animal hunted, frightened. This is what Dettlaff had warned him of.  
  
After a while Geralt saw Dettlaff resting his cheek on top of Regis’ head. The vampire started lightly stroking the back of Regis’ neck and his friend released Dettlaff’s neck. Regis was blinking sleepily and it seemed that his body had grown less tense.  
  
“Dettlaff?” Geralt slurred.  
  
Instead of replying, Dettlaff carefully lifted Regis. Intense blue eyes looked at him, his hand hovering over the blankets. Geralt nodded and Dettlaff lifted the blanket to the side and lay Regis down on the bed right next to him before pulling the blankets back over the both of them. “The fever should be gone when he next wakes,” the vampire said.  
  
Geralt turned his head to look closer at Regis. His friend was on the brink of sleep, stubbornly trying to stay awake. With some effort Geralt managed to roll onto his side and tried to scoot forward so that he was closer to the vampire. Immediately Regis rushed in to close the final distance between them, tucking Geralt’s head under his chin.  
  
Geralt closed his eyes. This would do…  
  
*  
   
When Geralt awoke he felt a bit stronger than before. There was a cool body pressed against his side; so Dettlaff’s blood had indeed helped. He looked around, seeing no sign of Dettlaff. Perhaps the vampire was outside again, taking care of Roach, perhaps he was somewhere in the crypt doing who knew what.  
  
Regis was twitching against him, shaking his head. His chest was heaving. Another nightmare.  
  
Geralt stayed still. He wanted to reach out to his friend and comfort him, but while in the throes of a nightmare he would likely only startle him; and startling a vampire, even one ill and injured, was a bad idea. “It’s a nightmare, Regis. Wake up,” he whispered, sure Regis would hear. “You’re safe, we both are. You’re in the crypt in Mère-Lachaiselongue cemetery in Toussaint. Dettlaff’s found us.”  
  
Regis’ breathing stilled and slowly black eyes opened, needing a while to orient themselves before focusing on him. “Tesham Mutna…”  
  
“Is over. Just nightmares now, Regis, I’m so sorry.”  
  
“This… it’s real?” Regis looked at him with a hopeful yet scared expression.  
  
Geralt reached up to stroke his friend’s cheek. “Tell me about your nightmares, Regis. What are they about?”  
  
“No, I don’t…” the vampire turned his head, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“Please. I know it’s painful, but I think there may be a way to prove to you that whenever you find yourself back in Tesham Mutna it’s all a dream. That this reality is the real one.” Geralt rolled onto his back and lightly patted his chest. “Listen to my heart, Regis. It’s beating.”  
  
Regis cocked his head, staring intently at Geralt’s chest before shaking his head furiously. “I can’t… there’s too much noise!”  
  
“Come closer.” Geralt hoped that this would work.  
  
Hesitantly, Regis shifted so that he could rest his head on Geralt’s chest, his ear over the witcher’s heart. The vampire was hovering over his chest, careful not to let any actual weight settle on the injured man.  
  
“I won’t break Regis, the potions are doing their work, I’m recovering. Just lay down and try to relax your body. Listen…” Slowly Geralt could feel more weight settling on top of his chest. “That’s good, Regis.” He lifted a hand to the vampire’s neck and started lightly stroking. He would wait…  
  
Finally Regis seemed a bit calmer and he started talking, the vibrations of his voice rumbling heavily in Geralt’s chest. “It’s always dark there… and cold. I open my eyes and find myself trapped in Khagmar’s cage. At first I don’t realise that I’m trapped, but then I look down and I see…” Regis pressed his ear closer to Geralt’s chest, listening. “I see you. You’re lying there and I’m trying everything I can to escape, but no matter what I try the cuffs hold tight. I can’t bite through my wrists, the position’s wrong. No matter what I try I can’t get to you!” Regis’ breath stuttered.  
  
Geralt’s moved his other arm until he could touch Regis’ arm. His chest felt like the garkain had come back to finish its prey. Dettlaff had told him that both Regis’ mind and body had been tortured, had been injured. Did his friend remember anything of what had really happened or were his true memories forever fused with his nightmare reality? He wished Regis wouldn’t remember any of it. So far Geralt had been lucky not to experience any nightmares of his own, but the witcher was sure that once his body had recovered more his mind would start haunting him too. He would deal with the nightmares when they came though.  
  
He could sense Dettlaff’s presence just a moment before his red smoke-like shape swirled over the balcony and he materialised at the desk next to the bed. Regis didn’t seem to notice him and Dettlaff said nothing, though Geralt could see the worry and concern written clear as day on the vampire’s face.  
  
“When I look down,” Regis started after several minutes, “you’re first just you, but you’re lying so quietly. Unmoving. You’re not responding to me. Then I lose myself and when I become aware I see…” he shuddered and brought his hand over Geralt’s chest, pressing just on the edge of too hard, “I see you decomposing before me. Until only your bones remain. Again and again; one moment there’s you, lying on the floor, and when I blink…”  
  
There. That’s what Geralt had been looking for. “Dear Regis,” he stroked the vampire’s arm, “there you go, proof that your nightmares are awful dreams and not reality…”  
  
“Hnn?” Regis shifted on Geralt’s chest, listening.  
  
“It’s happening again and again you tell me. That surely can’t be, my friend. If you were still in Tesham Mutna you’d only have experienced those events once. When you would wake up again back there time would continue to flow.” Geralt didn’t think mentioning that a human body couldn’t decompose to bones in just a few days would hold any credit for Regis. Geralt had been in prison before, had been tortured as well. Time passed differently in the dark. A minute could seem like a day and a day like a year. No! He hugged Regis, not wishing to dwell on his own past.  
  
“And tell me, Regis. When you wake up and find yourself here? Do events repeat?” Geralt asked him.  
  
Regis lifted his head and looked at him, a frown on his face. He finally seemed to notice Dettlaff and tilted his head. “No?” he more asked than stated.  
  
“Do you remember how we got back from Tesham Mutna?” Dettlaff asked, sitting down on the bed next to him.  
  
Regis’ gaze turned inward and he was silent for a minute. “You found us,” he nodded at Dettlaff, “I fought you when you tried to keep me away from Geralt. Then I heard his heartbeat and you helped me. You carried him all the way here.”  
  
Geralt’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He hadn’t expected that, but he really shouldn’t be surprised. Regis was still in no state, he himself had been unconscious and Roach had been back at the cemetery. Geralt knew the reasons all too well why vampires preferred not to ride horses, and if Regis had been as bad as Dettlaff had said it was no surprise they hadn’t even tried to acquire a horse in one of the villages on their way. He had to have been carried by Dettlaff. “And then? Did you travel back to the cemetery again? Or whenever you’ve woken up here, have the same events repeated themselves?”  
  
Regis shook his head. “It’s different every time.”  
  
“What is more likely, dear friend. Time in reality moving back and forth, or moving from one event to the other?”  
  
“The latter. Time in dreams is distorted, moving circular and non-linear.” Hope shone in those black eyes. Regis was finally starting to realise what was real.  
  
“Don’t forget that, Regis,” Geralt smiled at the vampire, “unfortunately you’re bound to have nightmares for some time still, but whenever you can, remember this conversation. We’ll remind you of it if you need it.”  
  
“Thank you,” Regis whispered. Geralt could feel cool tears soaking through his shirt and soon the vampire’s breathing quieted. Geralt looked down to see that Regis had fallen asleep. He hoped that this time the vampire would get some true rest; his friend had had enough nightmares.  
  
Dettlaff reached towards Regis and lightly stroked his temple. The vampire looked intently for a moment before withdrawing his hand and nodding to himself. “He’ll sleep peacefully now,” he told Geralt. He looked the witcher in the eyes. “I’ll bring you some food, I was just downstairs looking through your provisions for anything I could make some soup with before Regis awoke.”  
  
Geralt scrunched his nose. “Not really hungry, Dettlaff.” It was true, he felt nauseous just thinking about food, but it was a damned if you do, damned if you don’t scenario. “But thanks, I’ll try to eat some…”  
  
Dettlaff distractedly patted his arm, preparing to get up. “You’ll need to drink some more of Regis’ concoction as well.”  
  
Geralt looked down at the dozing vampire on his chest. He needed to get better soon. If what Regis believed was true then Dettlaff was still in trouble. They would have to see how they could help him. He was a witcher, he healed much faster than humans, perhaps in two, three days he would be well enough to resume the Path.  
  
As for Regis though… physically he was recovering, Dettlaff’s blood was helping. As for his mind, it was going to be wait and see. Geralt was sure that Dettlaff wouldn’t abandon Regis with his mind still so fragile and the vampire had promised not to shut him out again; Geralt most certainly was not going to abandon Regis either, not after he’d only just gotten his dear friend back from the dead. He was his friend, his family and he was part of Regis’ pack, Geralt snorted, his pup apparently even. That did explain some of Regis’ behaviour though. A warm feeling slowly swirled through his chest and Geralt found the corner of his mouth pulled upwards into a lopsided smile. It was a nice feeling.  
  
He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable, at least until Dettlaff came back and forced him upright to eat and drink something.  
  
Tomorrow, or the day after, he decided. Then he would convince Dettlaff to tell his side of the story so they could help him. With their initial meeting long behind them and now in their current situation he’d been able to glimpse more of the brooding vampire and he could sense that Regis’ belief in his friend was true.  
  
Geralt shuddered, trying to imagine what would make him murder innocent beings himself all of a sudden and only coming up with one thing.  
  
Dettlaff needed their help and he would have it. If it wasn’t too late yet…  
  
**The end**


End file.
